


My Neighbor Killian

by Tealybob



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Anger, Arguing, Bickering, Detective Rogers, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hate to Love, Humor, Idiots in Love, Language, Love/Hate, Mutual Pining, Neighbors, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Rival Relationship, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Snark, Storybrooke spell, Tags Are Hard, True Love, True Love's Kiss, Unrequited Crush, annoying killian, bondsman emma, city life, cocky killian, detective Killian, detective jones, detective killian jones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:34:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23525458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tealybob/pseuds/Tealybob
Summary: Exciting job, brilliant son, spacious apartment overlooking the city square… Emma Swan’s life was very good. Damn near 'ideal.' She only had ninety-nine problems, as the saying went, and her neighbor, Killian, was about fifty of them.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Henry Mills, Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Knave Of Hearts | Will Scarlet, Huntsman | Sheriff Graham/Emma Swan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	My Neighbor Killian

Emma Swan had eaten dinner with her son Henry three hours ago. She had brushed her teeth one hour ago. She had laid down in her bed fifty-two minutes ago. She had fallen asleep-

Oh wait, no, she hadn’t. She’d been kept wide awake by the bass throbbing through the walls and floors of her bedroom. How Henry could always doze off in the midst of it, Emma had no idea. She pulled a pillow over her head. It helped only until her ears adjusted to the new volume. Her added growl made for a nice chord. 

The clock glowed a taunting ‘ _ 12:00 AM _ .’ She had seven hours before she had to drag herself out of the apartment and to her office. And she had a very big day ahead of her. An hour drive north, if not further, depending on if Mildred had moved since that morning… There was no telling where the hunt would take her. But that was part of the thrill. 

Exciting, fulfilling job; adorning, brilliant son; affordable, spacious apartment overlooking the city square… Emma’s life was pretty good. She really couldn’t complain. 

Except for right that second. She could complain a great bit at that very second.

She threw her pillow to the ground and kicked her way out of the sheets. “No fucking consideration-” 

The music grew louder as she marched to her front door, probably waking Henry, but for the moment, she didn’t care. She unlocked her deadbolt and flung the door open. 

“ _ Get your feet to the floor, everybody rock and roll. You’ve got nothing to- _ ”

The sound of his singing made Emma’s feet move that much faster. Three steps, and she was across the hall, pounding her fist on the wall. The sound of laughter sounded over the music, setting her blood on fire. 

The door in front of her opened slowly, and low and behold: the biggest pain in Emma’s ass. He stood 5’11” (6’ with the hair) with dark stubble that framed his antagonizing smirk, and eyes so blue they made Emma want to visit the ocean so she could hurl sharp rocks into it. 

His smirk was on his face now. He leaned against the door frame carelessly. “Wondered when you’d show.” His slow voice was an off key melody, like nails on the chalkboard that was Emma’s patience.

“You’re lucky I don’t call the cops.” 

“I so wish you would.” 

“What is that - fucking  _ Boston _ ? Turn it off.” 

He nodded his head dramatically with the beat, staring her in the eye. He thought this was a game. It wasn’t going to be when she put him in a chokehold, she could guarantee that…

“Not a  _ Boston _ fan?” He had to keep his voice elevated to be heard over the music. His head kept bobbing in time. “I can put on something else. David Bowie?”

Her hand balled into a fist. “I swear to God-” 

“ _ Doobie Brothers?”  _

“If you don’t turn off the noise-”

“ _ Kansas _ ?”

“Right. Now. Killian.” 

“Alright, I’ll play Hall & Oates but I have to say, I’m not that big of a fan!” 

Fury stung through every atom of Emma’s body. If she didn’t get away, she was going to start throwing punches. She spun on her heel and fled to her own open door to keep herself from slamming her clenched hand into the wall - or his smirk. 

“Aw, where’re you going?” he called after her. “We just got started!” 

Emma banged the panel of her door in his face. A picture fell from the wall. She lowered herself into a wall-squat, closed her eyes, and began counting. If adrenaline was going to consume you at an unprecedented time - might as well put your body to work. 

Emma Swan’s life was very good. Damn near  _ ideal _ . She only had 99 problems, as the saying went, and her neighbor, Killian, was about 50 of them. 

She breathed deep. Counted.  _ Twenty-six, twenty-seven- _ The music stopped abruptly, leaving a glorious silence to ring in her ears. 

Emma opened her eyes and pushed herself up off the wall. She walked to her room, footsteps now audible in the new dead of the night. 

12:08. 

She had six hours and fifty-two minutes. 

That would have to do. **  
**

* * *

Henry was in the kitchen when Emma awoke. He was dressed in his usual plaid button up and dark jeans, but sporting a pink apron for the moment. The smell of pancakes welcomed Emma to the kitchen like a warm blanket. 

“You made breakfast?” She smiled and loomed over Henry’s shoulder. “What’s the occasion?”

Henry flipped a pancake and nudged her away from his station. “It sounded like you had a rough night-” 

“You heard all that?” 

“So, I thought I’d try to make your morning a little smoother.” 

The warm blanket spread inward, easing any remaining tension from said night into oblivion. She didn’t know how she’d ended up with a kid like Henry, especially after poorly managing to enact the role of his father as well as his mother. Her abrasive personality hadn’t been inherited in the slightest, nor had it been taught. Her son’s patience had floored her repeatedly in the past, and his eagerness to carry the weight of others’ troubles was even more incredible to witness. She might be biased, but he was one of the only good ones out there anymore. “Thanks, kid.” 

Henry smiled back at her. “I made half a pot of coffee.” 

“Then why does it only look like a quarter in here?”

“I might have had a cup.” 

“You’re too young for a cup.” 

“At sixteen, there are worse drugs than caffeine I could be partaking in.” 

Emma opened the fridge to look for her creamer. “I don’t want you on any drugs at all…” 

“Hey, my sleep was interrupted, too.” 

“Are we out of creamer?” 

“On the table.” 

“Oh.” 

Henry set a plate of pancakes in front of Emma as she pulled out a chair. “Where are you going today?” he asked. 

“Make sure you eat too,” she scolded, picking up her fork. “I should be feeding you; this entire thing is backwards.” 

“ _ Where are you going today? _ ” he repeated. His voice carried the fine tune of an eye roll. 

“I think Smithville. Got a runaway.” 

“Smithville isn’t very far for a runaway.” 

“Anywhere north of North Kansas City is far for me.” 

She heard him scoff under his breath. “That makes you a really lousy bounty hunter.” 

“I’m not a  _ bounty hunter. _ ” 

“Basically.” 

He finally joined her at the table with a plate of his own - which was about twice the size of hers, she noticed. Ah well, growing boys have to eat, right? “I got my baggage tags for the trip, by the way,” he muffled out around a thick mouthful of cake and syrup. 

“What trip?” 

Henry frowned at her. “My band trip?” 

_ Shit _ . Time had gotten away from her and the entire event had slipped her mind. Henry’s orchestra had had this trip to New York planned since last year’s Christmas concert. He’d been saving every dime he could for the “authentic” New York cuisine. She was happy for the youthful experiences he was going to have. She was more petrified for the traumatic experiences he could stumble into. But she dealt hands-on with the negative parts of the world every day, as Henry liked to remind her, and there  _ was  _ good out there. Somewhere. Probably not New York, though. 

“When is that; like five weeks from now?”

“Two weeks.” 

“ _ Two? _ Man, that snuck up on me.” 

“That’s alright. You gonna eat the rest of that pancake?” 

Emma checked the clock over the oven. “You finish up, I’ve gotta get ready and then I’ll walk down with you to grab the mail.” 

“I gotta take the trash out, too,” Henry said around another bite. 

Emma’s eyes flashed to the bin on the end of the counter. The corners of her lips tugged into a mischievous smile. “You know what? Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it when I come back up.”  **  
**

* * *

The smell of rotten bananas was all Emma could focus on. She curled her lip and pulled her eyebrows together, squinting her eyes at her computer screen. Since she had posted his bond two years ago, Mildred had acquired four new warrants through New York. One was set for $30,000. Good luck with that, champ. 

She had stopped at the station that morning long enough for Jefferson to get in her car, and then they headed straight to Smithville. A call to dispatch confirmed the address of Mildred’s last known location. (Their anonymous tip swore to call into the station and let them know if Mildred had taken off or not. Guess he bunked with the wrong buddy.) They’d pulled up outside of the trailer home at 8:53. She’d spotted his vehicle parked halfway behind the home, ran the plates -  _ just to cover their bases _ \- and radioed in to dispatch again. “ _ We’re attempting to make contact. No additional units needed.”  _

“ _ Ten-four.” _

They probably could have used the additional unit, actually. She’d vaguely recognized Mildred the second he answered the door. She absolutely recognized the back of his head, though, when he turned around and bolted back into the house, jumping over sofas and knocking over a vase. “ _ I’m going around back-”  _

_ “Don’t shoot this one, Swan-”  _

She’d made it to the back of the home just as Mildred busted out of the screen door. She lifted her firearm, but he ducked behind the dumpster, making a run for his car. At that point, Emma found herself getting excited about a potential foot chase, which she had to admit to Jefferson (and Mildred) in the car ride back. 

Jefferson came around the corner, blocking Mildred’s beeline. Mildred dug his heel into the ground, making to turn and run left, but Emma was faster. She crashed down onto him like a hawk swooping for the kill. He gave up struggling pretty fast once his arm was twisted behind his shoulder blades. And that was the abrupt end of that - so much for her foot chase… 

God, was that smell coming from her? 

“You know,” Mildred hissed from beside her office desk, “I could break out of these cuffs if I really wanted to.” 

“Then do it.” 

Mildred growled and tried to lunge at her. Nothing jumped but his necklaces. His wrists - handcuffed to the chair - didn’t budge. He growled louder. Emma took a deep breath. Nope, the smell was definitely him. 

“Watch out, Swan.” Emma raised her eyes over her screen to the thick frame of Jefferson. He had his protein shake in hand, turning it over and over. He and Graham were the only other bondsmen in the office today. The rest of them were out on calls. It made the office quiet, and frankly, gave Jefferson nothing else to do but poke fun at her handcuffed hornet nest. “If he figures out how to break metal, you’re toast.” 

“Could you make me some coffee, Jeff?” 

“Yeah, you got it.”

Her visitor kicked her desk. “Just put me in a cell, bitch. I’ll wait out the twenty-four hours.” 

A laugh escaped before she could catch herself. For as much as these guys manipulated the laws, they really didn’t know them. “That’s not how this is going to work. You’re going into jail until you can pay back the bond you owe us.” 

He scoffed. “You’re no cop.” 

Emma gave him a professional, tight-lipped smile. “No, but you’re still going to jail. And the total you have to pay on the warrants you’ve won yourself-” She exhaled a low whistle. “Well, let’s just say I don’t make that in a year. And I live comfortably.” 

“Where’s my lawyer?” 

_ Bingo!  _ Emma checked her stopwatch. “Seven minutes! Jeff - seven minutes!” 

“That’s not too bad there, chains,” Jefferson mused. “You held your own.” 

Emma grinned at her prisoner and leaned forward to explain. “Most people ask for their lawyer once they’re in cuffs.” She began to stand. “If you’d waited a little longer, you could have had coffee with me. Ah, well.” She placed a new set of cuffs on his wrists outside of the chair before removing the first set. She pulled him upright and turned towards the holding facility in the back. “When you finally get out, do everyone a favor and take a damn shower. You smell like shit with bananas sliced on the side.” **  
**

* * *

Two o’clock hit as aggressively as a wet towel to the face. After the third cup of coffee hadn’t done any good, Emma rolled herself out on the break room couch and covered her eyes with her elbow. Not that she was going to get anything close to a nap, not with the way the guys stomped through the office like giants. Graham had brought in two guys that morning and wasn’t shy about letting everyone know. He never was. 

Graham Humbert: Emma’s closest friend in the city. He’d been the one that pushed her to apply at the office ( _ his _ office, as he still referred to it). The two of them partnered together whenever they could, and did twice as much work as anyone else at the company when they were told they could have their way with tracking people down. They were unstoppable together. 

Six years ago when Emma was still working at the bar across the town square from her apartment, Graham had chased down a runaway into the corner of the club. The scumbag pulled a gun on Graham, but Emma pulled a glass bottle faster. Unfortunately, they had to call for an ambulance due to the severity of the open wound on the guy’s head, and Graham lost his lead.  _ “He needs to be treated and you’re not going to stand guard outside of our hospital with a loaded weapon waiting for him to get discharged.”  _

In the end, Emma poured him a drink and Graham offered her a job. 

“Hey, Swan!” His booming voice vibrated down to her bones. “You can sleep when you’re dead; let’s go on another house check.” 

“Take Jeff,” she grumbled from under her arms. 

“What’s the matter with you? I heard you showed up to work revved and rarin’ to go.”

“Sleep deprivation can be a drug.” 

“Why didn’t you sleep?”

“Take a wild guess.” 

He began to snicker. This wasn’t the first time Emma had come into work in a bad mood one way or another. She’d told her coworkers the horrors of her neighborly disputes before, and never had they ever taken her side. They found every story all too amusing. Even when Killian had super-glued her door shut and she couldn’t make it into work on time, they’d laughed their asses off rather than be irritated with her tardiness. Yet she knew that if one of their doors had turned up glued shut, there wouldn’t be a single crack-up in the building. 

She felt her legs being pushed to the side and sat up before her entire body rolled to the ground. Graham settled into the cushion beside her with a mug and crossed his ankle over his knee. “Maybe he’s trying to get your attention.” 

“He got it. Me and my fist’s attention.” 

“Easy, tiger.” 

“What kind of tea ya got there?”

“Sorry, this tea is for people who are going on another run here in a few minutes.” 

Emma rolled her eyes. She checked her watch. Two thirty. She had a few more hours to go, and if she did manage to take a nap, it would probably only worsen her exhaustion. 

She sighed. “Where are we going?”

Graham laughed triumphantly. “East side of Liberty.” 

“Liberty is too small to have ‘sides.’”

“Maybe your neighbor needs friends and this is the only way he’s found to have a conversation with you.” 

Emma scowled from the side of her eyes. Graham shrugged innocently. Fighting another eyeroll, Emma pushed off of the sofa and started towards the microwave. “He has friends. They leave his place drunk all the time.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Douchebag Two and Three, maybe?” She poured water from the sink into a mug and placed it into the microwave. “He’s just a pain in the ass.” 

As she watched the dirty microwave plate rotate behind the transparent door, Emma thought back to that morning. Not that she knew for certain, of course, but she had a feeling she may have forgotten to take her trash bag from the hallway to the dumpster. In fact, she had a feeling she may have forgotten to even tie the bag at the top. That could only mean that her trash was open in the hallway, scattered across the ground and more than likely leaking. It was a shame Killian would be home first to have to step over it before she had the chance to assess the damage... 

“What are you grinning for?” Graham interrupted her thoughts.

“Nothing. What kind of tea was that?” **  
**

* * *

The stress of the day melted down Emma’s back with each step she took. This was her form of meditation. She never had time to actually meditate - that was a privilege she'd discarded long ago. So instead, she forced herself into the pattern of becoming completely zen and finding her enlightenment on the way up the stairs to the third floor. 

After the first two flights, the worries of work were left behind. She forced herself to shake away every thought and plan she had for the next few days. Every lead they had on FTAs, every notification that one of their guys was arrested in a surrounding city… None of that could matter once she stepped foot inside her apartment. That was her and Henry’s space. 

Her work had consumed her her entire life, but when Henry was born she had to learn how to shut off her workaholic tendencies and focus on being a mother. Her forgetting that he had a major trip coming up in two months didn’t weigh lightly on her mind. She couldn’t tell if it really did bother him or not. He probably wouldn’t tell her even if it did. That worried her more than anything.

As always, when she reached her last row of stairs, her emotions switched and she began bracing herself for what was sure to be waiting impatiently beside her door. At least this time she’d had a step ahead on him… This was going to be more entertaining than usual. 

Right on queue, her foot hit the last step and a voice sounded like an alarm to the rest of the building, notifying residents that she was back. Silence your phones, ladies and gentlemen: the show is about to begin. "Welcome home, Swan. Care to explain yourself?"

Emma breathed deep and looked up at the man standing in the way of her entrance to peace. He had himself propped against his doorframe, arms crossed and sleeves rolled up. A roll of paper towels set at his feet. 

“Just got home from work,” she answered sweetly. “You?” 

He wasn't amused. “Did you trip over your own feet when you left this morning?”

“Excuse me?”

“You dumped your trash out in front of my door.” His voice was steady, but a heat could be heard boiling under the surface. 

“That doesn’t sound like something I’d do.” 

“There were magazines with your name on them.”

“You riffled through my trash?” 

“I didn’t have to - you poured it out on the floor!” 

Emma dug in her pocket for her keys. “Sorry...” She feigned an innocent shrug, forcing her voice to slide like silk into the empty hallway. “I was just so tired from last night. I didn’t get hardly any sleep, you know… I thought maybe you could help a neighbor out.” 

Killian stood up off of the door frame and walked into the middle of the hallway. He kept his stance wide and his shoulders rolled back, arms tensing even as they remained crossed over his chest. Emma looked him up and down, then pointed to his person. “Is this supposed to intimidate me?” 

“You think you’re cute, don’t you?”

"All I did was set out my trash. You did say that if I ever needed you to take some garbage out for me, you'd do it."

"When did I say that?" 

"When we first moved in."

"That was ages ago!" 

She clicked her tongue against her teeth. "It’s kind of cheap to take back an offer, don’t you think?" 

Her neighbor grasped for words, but they clearly weren't coming fast enough. "In this particular situation, I’m not too worried about ‘cheap.’" 

“I’ll say.” 

His eyebrows finally betrayed him and knitted themselves together in a solid line. In this game of poker they played, that was his tell. This was more than she could have hoped for. 

"Was that all you wanted to talk about, or..."

"No." His response was too quick. "I'm not your handyman. Take care of your own bloody trash."

She relished the moment, but only for a second; the rest was too perfect to wait. She leaned forward slowly. "I would but… well, you already did." 

Killian’s tongue stopped mid stroke across his lip. As realization dawned on him, aggravation took over his face, and his glare bore into her. His blue eyes were electric, and if she wasn’t so eager to escape while she was ahead, she probably would have stayed to admire them just a little longer. 

Emma gave him a quirk of her eyebrows before turning around and slipping into her apartment. “Goodnight, Killian!” she sang. 

“Swan-”

Her door closed in his face. 

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this because it has taken me so long to finally get this posted! I'll be back soon with another chapter! Thanks for reading, everyone.


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